WHEN it comes to surprises, Oxford never lets you down. Where else could you witness a hunt in full cry, pursued by a truncheon-brandishing police officer in the main shopping area – in Oxford’s case, Cornmarket Street?

Where else would you be invited into a van masquerading as a theatre, with only two seats for its audience, and be entertained by someone reading excerpts from the classics, poetry read by the poet himself, a guitarist and a French accordion player singing their own songs? The whole experience in Bonn Square was topped off by two young women dancing in a fashion that made you wonder how limbs could be coaxed into such positions, while drawing non-approving glances from a woman in the bus queue.

Most of us would find it hard to see a link between the hunt and the forthcoming police commissioners’ national elections. I find it difficult to muster any interest for an initiative that seems to just be another smokescreen for the country’s bigger problems.

My opinion was not shared by the people at Lush, the cosmetics chain that abhors any testing on animals. It was the staff of the Cornmarket Street branch that gave us the hunt. Tilly, one of the team, said they wanted customers to question the six candidates in next month’s ballot and to vote for the one prepared to enforce existing legislation protecting wildlife.

The ‘performance’ went well – apart from when a passer-by almost came to blows with the ‘fox’ and the ‘hound’, energetically portrayed by Rachel and Johnny respectively, whose aggression seemed too close to him for comfort.

THE van team was also from Lush – the headquarters in Poole – but they were out to promote a new line in cosmetics. Never have I encountered such a soft sell. No pressure, no demands that you buy something. The 20-minute show was excellent.

But every surface in the van was covered by bottles large and small. One move and you sent a dozen crashing to the floor. I was left wondering, not about the new line, but who packed those bottles before the van could move. It must have taken an age.

ALSO in the city were pairs of young people dispensing Drench, a non-alcoholic drink claimed by some to be the greatest tipple since Moses struck that rock in the desert to quench the thirst of complaining Israelites.

They wore orange wellington boots, orange builders’ safety helmets and goggles.

I questioned the need for the helmets and was told they were the coming must-have for winter.

Maybe they are, or perhaps this was a leg-pull. But after seeing old-style school satchels sold for nearly £90 a time and carried by fashionable women, I’ll believe anything.